Clearly, because as long as I can remember, I have felt this way. With determination, because I'm just a little bit contrary — most people love spring (is that really true? stats anyone?), so why not be different?
It occurred to me just today that something fundamental has changed in the way I see the natural world. Each hint of new growth pleases me deeply. I have an almost maternal attachment to the budding wild plum blossoms, the muskrat in Skunk Creek, the first little insects (even the ants) emerging from winter hibernation, and our little mallard pair taking up housekeeping in Bear Creek to the east.
I love spring. It's exciting. Green sprouts everywhere! Hints of color tip tree branches and bushes. Bees, gnats, and other insects (maybe soon some ladybugs!) travel the three-dimensional space between ground and sky. The black vultures return, and hawks dance in pairs over the greening prairie grasses.
I recently came across the Dragonfly Archive, a blog dedicated to capturing Twitter haiku, tanka, senryu, and micropoetry. On its "About" page, the author has posted this: "FACT: A dragonfly larvae lives up to three years, but in the winged-state they live only a few weeks. Anytime you see a dragonfly in their winged-state, know that they are close to the end of their lifespan."
Perhaps that's what I mean by "dragonfly wars" — the growth and beauty — the time to stretch one's wings, really — in the space between the bulk of one's life and the gradual rise and drift toward its termination. That's where I am now.
My 47th birthday last August was a milestone, because it was the first birthday on which I remember looking forward to life, to the possibilities, and feeling happy, content, and grounded in being ALIVE.
OK, I know. Forty-seven does not equal "close to the end of their lifespan." But metaphorically, perhaps in "dragonfly years," it is — at least, it's far beyond the larval stage (I shall not extend the metaphor to try to incorporate "nymph," the term applied to dragonfly larvae, into the mix, I promise).
I see beauty in every detail, every fragile detail, like the wings of the dragonfly.
And I'm happy to say, I've fallen for spring.
Interesting about dragonflies and years. As for favorite seasons, mine has always been fall, but more recently perhaps I have less of a favorite. Summer was my favorite when I was a kid (for obvious reasons - out of school days).
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